My Last Words
by Fictionalities
Summary: If you disappear, people will only remember you for what you did, not who you were. France, after destroying the one thing he thought would last forever, disappears. His last words were to someone he loved dearly, but they broke a bond that may never be repaired, not if France stays gone. (Teen for England's... colourful vocabulary)
1. Chapter 1

**One**

WOOT! First fic! Let's freaking do this!

(Oh, hey if you come here expecting only one ship, you're gonna be disappointed)

With a resounding crash, a bottle fell off the table onto the floor. Its contents poured out onto the shattered remains of a long night of drinking. The amber liquid trickled toward the feet of a bushy-eyebrowed young man sitting slumped against the wall, below an open window.

England's hair was rumpled, and he looked as if he had been there a while. He stirred, pushing bottles off him. The noises of a nighttime London poured in through the window, making his head ache. He put a hand on his head as his phone began ringing. He pulled it out from his pocket and saw the caller was "Francis Bonnefoy". He stared at his phone as memories surged through his head

 _A party. England and France sit on a large couch. Someone hands England a drink. He tries to refuse it, but France pressures him to drink. He does. France leans over to whisper in England's ear. England blushes._

 _London. England and France walk hand in hand. France says something, causing England to stop walking, and glare at him. England says something back and France shakes his head. He keeps walking silently, causing England to chase after him, frowning._

 _England's flat. England and France are yelling, arguing, screaming. A bottle flies at England's head. He stops, and stares at the seething Frenchman. France yells something neither is likely to forget for a while._

 _"YOU SHOULD HAVE DIED IN WORLD WAR TWO, YOU USELESS BRIT!"_

The phone stopped ringing, and England stared at it. It came up with a message that he has a voicemail. England pushed the button, hands shaking.

"Hi… England. Um… I'm…I'm really sorry… P-Please, I love you, a-and…" France's voice was shaking."I-I'm so, so sorry for what I said….Please… call me back… I…love you…. Bye." With a sob, he hung up.

England stood, and walked out of his flat, slamming the door behind him. He walked down the street, staring up at the stars. He wondered how it ever got so bad, how something so perfect and beautiful was destroyed so easily. The stars twinkled back at him, making him think of France. He wondered if France felt the same as him.

 ** _HOLY GAEA THAT WAS SHORT!_ I don't know what alcohol England would drink... Like, not beer, or wine, or vodka... UGH. Stupid me. I mean, what WOULD he drink? Thanks for reading. Bye! Love you guys!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Two**

This chapter is…. Um…. "Different".

You'll see what I mean.

I hope.

England was walking down a busy street in London. He had his head down, and his arms crossed. His phone buzzed in his pocket, and he pulled it out. Looking at the display, he groaned.

"Why is the American calling me at 3 A.M.?" He answered with "What the hell do you want, asshole?"

"Hey! Iggy! What's up, bro?" America practically screamed, making England wince, and pull the phone from his ear. "Dude, I've got, like, a billion different types of booze, and honestly, I'm gonna pass out before I even make a _dent_ in this so please come!"

"No."

"Please?"

"No."

"Please?"

"No!"

"…"

"…"

"…Please?"

"FINE." England sighed. "Wait, how am I gonna get there?"

"Dude. Private jet. Do you even know me?"

"Wait, America-"

"BYEEEEEE!" America hung up.

England groaned, and hurried to the airport, where a jet was waiting for him. _That stuck up, rich GIT!_ He thought. Getting on the plane, he realized how tired he was. He collapsed in a chair, and was soon asleep.

He awoke to a flight attendant shaking him. "Sir, you've arrived," she said.

"Ah, thank you." England got up and walked to the front of the plane. He saw only a glimpse of the New York airport before he was dragged from the plane and into a car. "What the-"

"COME ON, BRO!"

England turned, and, seeing America, sighed. He stared out the window of the car as America sped down a private road to a large house.

Okay, maybe house isn't the best term. _Mansion_ was more appropriate. America was rich, and he wasn't afraid to show it. The house had to be at least 3 stories, with sprawling lawns and a chandelier on the front porch. Several windows showed people dancing and drinking.

"Okay, out of my car." America pulled England out, and into the packed house.

"No-"England argued, but he knew the music was too loud to be heard over. He ended up in the kitchen, where a small girl was cooking. "Erm… Hello…"

She turned. "Hm? Oh. It's _you._ "

"Oi! What's that supposed to mean?" He bristled.

She giggled."Nothing. I know about your fight."

"Wha-"

"Honestly, France'll tell you anything when he's drunk. So will you."

England pulled out his phone. He scrolled through his calls, and found a number he didn't recognize. He looked up at the smirking girl.

"I'm Sicily, by the way." She held out her hand. When England didn't take it, she shrugged, and put the dough she had been kneading in the oven. "I'll help you," she said, back turned.

"You- You'll help?" England smiled. "I don't need a little girl's help-"

As soon as the words left his mouth, Sicily shoved a knife below his throat, still grinning. "What was that, stupido inghilterra?"

"Erm… Thanks... for... Helping…?" England gulped.

Sicily grinned, and pulled the knife back. "Good. Now, explain what happened. Every detail. Drunk you doesn't like to elaborate."

As England told the young Italian everything, the smell of baking bread wafted from the oven. She pulled it out, and held up a finger to stop England's story.

"Come." She walked into the packed living room, and tossed the loaf of bread at America. "THERE YOU GO, DOUCHE! ENJOY YOUR PAIN!" The bread clunked America on the head, and he turned, fuming.

"SICILY, GOD DAMN IT!" America screamed, and then started shoving toward them.

"Run?" England asked.

"Run." Sicily grabbed his elbow, and pushed her way out of the room. She raced up a flight of stairs, dragging England behind her. She scanned the hall, and started towards a window.

"Oh no. We are NOT climbing out a window." He pulled his arm out of her grip.

"Fine. Deal with a pissed, drunk America then, stupido inghilterra. Not my problem." She opened the window, and jumped out.

England rushed to the window, and saw her land in America's pool. He heard a loud crash, and decided to jump. He climbed onto the windowsill, and jumped. He screamed the whole way down.

"WHAT THE HELL, ENGLAND?" America screamed, watching as he plummeted into the pool.

"Shit we gotta go come on!" Sicily yelled, hauling England out of the water. She broke off in a run, heading for the forest. She disappeared into the trees, and England followed.

 _The hell am I getting myself into?_ He thought, sprinting for the cover of the forest. 


	3. Chapter 3 (short as balls)

**Three**

Hey guys, I'm so sorry, but I've been sick as hell. Blech. Okay, so why does Prussia's Maru Kaite Chikyuu make me better? Like I'm not sick now that I'm listening to it... WTF? Anyway, my friend Lilly says it's the Gilbird magic. Eh, okay.

England skidded into a clearing, chest heaving. He collapsed, wheezing, onto a rock.

"Hah, never run that fast in your life?" Sicily grinned. She was only a little breathless, after jumping out a window and sprinting through a forest. She tucked her hair behind her ear, and walked over to England. "Once you stop wheezing like a fat old _bastardo,_ let's go."

"I just... have to... catch my... breath." England said, still breathing hard. He sat for a while, then stood up. "Wait, why are we going _deeper_ into the dark forest?"

"If you wanna stay here alone, _bastardo_ , be my guest. I'm gonna go to a _house._ With _heating_ _._ And _food._ But by all means, stay the fuck here." Sicily's hair curl bounced in front of her face. She glared at England for a moment, then abruptly turned and walked off.

"Wait, come back!" England called, racing after her. His foot caught on a root, and he pitched forward, and landed flat on his face. As he lay there, groaning, he felt a weight on his back. He turned his head to see Sicily with her foot on his back.

"Now, now, scared of the big dark forest? Why, I thought you were a grown man, not a little baby!" She ground her foot into his spine, "Now, what would America say, hm?" She pulled out a phone and began recording. "Now, little _bambino,_ are you afraid of the dark?" When England didn't answer, she dug her toe between his shoulder blade and his spine. "Hey, answer me, fucker."

"Fuck you." England mumbled.

"Well, little _bambino's_ got a foul mouth." Sicily put the phone away, and stepped off England. She continued walking along a barely visible path. When England didn't immediately follow, she paused, and let him catch up. They walked like this for a while.

"So, where are we going?" England asked, pushing brambles aside as the sun rose. He stared around at the dense woods.

"Here." Sicily plopped down on a rock. There was nothing around for miles, and only she knew the way back. "So there's a thing I gotta tell you. After I called France, his phone number was disconnected."

"What does that have to do with anything-"

"Don't fucking interrupt! Anyway, his house is empty, and he took a bunch of clothes. Don't ask how I know," she said, when England looked confused. "Just pray to god that I don't find a reason to fucking kill you in your sleep. Anyway, he's disappeared."

"Disappeared?" England couldn't move. The last thing either of them had said to each other was... well... not good.

"Did the walking break your ears? He's disappeared. Gone. Left. _Scomparso_." Sicily stood, and glared at England.

"Wait, but-" England stood as well, afraid she was going to leave.

"I don't know where he's gone, so fuck off. Find your own way out,cazzo inglese coglione ." Sicily turned and walked away. Her red hair shone in the dim light, until finally she went behind a tree and was gone.

* * *

Ehhhhhhhh these are so short! But I'm too sick to write well... I'm sorry guys! T.T *curls up in a corner with manga* Bye... see you when I'm better... review please, and tell me what I should do! *Shudder* Good day... (not for me)


	4. UPDATE (Sorry!)

p style="text-align: center;"strong*UPDATE*/strong/p  
p style="text-align: center;"strongHey everyone, Lilly here. I'm sorry we haven't updated, but I hope you all will read everything else we've written while you wait! We're really stuck on what to write, and I feel really bad that we haven't written for My Last Words, or World Festival. I'm so sorry! Have a good day everyone!/strong/p 


	5. Chapter 4

**Four**

 _Omg I'm so so sorry! We've been busy, but here it is! The much awaited My Last Words chapter 4! Woo!_

"Sicily? Where did you go?" England called. He searched the surrounding area, but she was gone. He returned to the rock, and sat down, head in his hands. "What did I do? I just… I trusted a little girl… with all of my problems…" he muttered, stabbing his nails into his temple.

"Little girl? _Se un idiota_ , what did I tell you?" Sicily's voice echoed from the dark trees. "You don't call me that." She dropped from a tree, holding a bag.

"Sicily! What the bloody hell are you- why did you- WHAT?" England stuttered, jumping from the rock.

"I've been up there the entire time. Here's a tent, some food and clothes. I'll bring you more when you need them." When England looked confused, she added, "America's pissed at me. You were with me, so he's pissed at you. Stay here. I'll leave the bags over…" She looked around, pointing at one spot under a tall oak tree. "There. Now set up your tent and get comfy. There's only service at midnight, which is when I'll call you with news. _Arrivederci_." She dropped the bag. "Oh, yeah. France may or may not be dead. We found what seems to be his blood at his house."

"We? Who's we?" England said.

"I'll explain at midnight." She scaled a tree, and was gone once more.

"Sicily! Wait!" England yelled, running towards the tree. "What is it with you and disappearing?" He pulled open the bag. "Let's get started then."

The party was warm, but France shivered. He pulled the thin coat further around his shoulders, looking around the packed room.

"Ah, there you are, _Francia_." Sicily squeezed her way between two people, and stood in front of France. He was so tall; he had to bend down to hear her. "England's worried."

"What? I don't want him to worry!" France grabbed her arm. "Tell him I'm okay. Please!"

"Tell him yourself. Come on, it's almost midnight." Sicily pulled him through the crowd to the doors, and led him outside. "Stay quiet." She pulled out her phone, and dialed a number.

France sat on the grass, staring up at her. _What is going on?_

"Hello? Inghilterra, it's Sicily. Um… Yeah. France is okay." She sat next to France, and looked at the ground. "He says he loves you, and that he's sorry."

Tears sprang to France's eyes, and he held his hand out for the phone.

"Here, you talk to him." Sicily handed him the phone.

France held the phone to his ear, shaking.

"Hello?"

There it was. The voice he'd been longing to hear.

"England? Are you…" France sniffed, trying not to cry.

"I'm fine. I mean, I'm hiding from America, I'm cold, hungry, bored. I'm fine." England laughed. "I... I love you, you git. I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry to, _mon amour_. I'm so so sorry. I… I didn't mean to…"

"Yeah, I know. I love you." England sounded like he was going to cry. "I only have a few seconds left. I only have service at midnight. I love you."

France began to cry. "I love you too. _Je t'aime beaucoup_."

"I'll see you soon, love." There was a click, and the line went dead.

France handed the phone back to Sicily, and began to sob. He ran his hand through his hair.

Sicily knelt down, and put her hand on France's shoulder. "You'll be fine. But, just so you know… I'm sorry. They're paying me."

France looked up in time to see her pull out a dart gun and fire into his neck.

"Sweet dreams, _stupido cazzo_. Say hello to them for me." Sicily watched as the man slumped down, his eyelids fluttering shut. She turned to the house, and nodded. Several people, clad in all black, emerged, and dragged France's sleeping form into a small shed. "Don't hurt him." She called, putting the dart gun into a holster on her waist. "I'm getting paid good money for that body."


End file.
